Sorcerer of the Old Religion
by inch resting
Summary: Thousands of years after Arthur's death, Albus Dumbledore calls upon Merlin for a favor. Knowing that he will need assistance in helping Harry Potter achieve his destiny, he asks Merlin to take a teaching position at Hogwarts. For the next 7 years, Merlin will watch out and protect the Boy Who Lived, all the while waiting for his King to return. Eventual Merlin/Arthur (ON HIATUS)
1. Chapter 1

**Hi! Thanks for checking out my story. A few things you should know:**

 **1\. This will contain Merlin/Arthur. Not anything graphic - that's not my style - but definite romantic undertones. Their relationship and what it meant to Merlin is a big part of this story.**

 **2\. Yes, I no people can't apparate to Hogwarts, but Merlin is not most people.**

 **Other than that, there's not much to say. Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 1**

Merlin hadn't visited this lake in twenty years.

It was a beautiful sight, as always. The water was utterly calm, disturbed only occasionally by a leaping fish or a bird that swept over from above. It glittered, light from the sun bouncing off the waves, giving it an ethereal sheen.

Twenty whole years. It would've seemed to like a long time to any other person, but to Merlin, it was a mere minute - a second, even - compared to how long he'd been in this world.

Nevertheless, he couldn't help the prickle of guilt that poked at him. He felt a sort of obligation to visit Avalon every once in awhile. As silly as it may seem, he wanted to, in his own, strange way, keep Arthur company.

Merlin smirked at the thought - Arthur would hate that kind of thing. _Don't be such a_ girl _, Merlin,_ he would say in that obnoxious voice. _I don't need anyone to keep me company_ , _much less the likes of you_.

He missed that. The back-and-forth. The sarcastic comments and the jibes and the fond smiles just for him and-

Merlin took a deep breath and shook his head. He couldn't let himself linger on that. He'd succeeded at dealing with his feelings for the past one thousand years. He wasn't about to let that dark, seemingly inescapable sadness come back.

He'd barely managed to crawl out of that hole. He had no intention of falling back in. Not ever.

Getting to his feet, Merlin let his eyes drift over the lake one last time, a smile appearing on his lips as the brief feeling of sorrow faded away. Those moments had gotten rarer and rarer as the years passed by. They'd almost disappeared altogether.

And besides - Arthur would return one day. Kilgharrah had assured him of that. He wasn't about to give up hope now. Not when he'd been holding onto it for so long.

After gazing at the lake for a few more seconds, Merlin turned away, closed his eyes, and whispered, " _Brýdhlóp_."

When he opened them, he was greeted with the familiar sight of his house. It was a simple flat - one floor, one bedroom, a small living room and kitchen. It was rather outdated, as well, though that was to be expected. The walls were hardwood, as was the floor, and the furniture was small and, at times, itchy.

But it was home. It had been for the past sixty years or so. It was located in the English county Nottinghamshire, a lovely area with rolling hills and yellow fields and gorgeous green forests. The people were nice as well - excluding a farmer who lived a few miles down the road. He was quite nasty, especially during the harvest season.

Merlin looked over at the clock and grimaced. He was going to be late! He quickly hurried over to his suitcase and grabbed ahold of it, before making sure all the doors were locked. It may not have looked it, but the house held a great deal of valuables, including priceless volumes scholars had spent centuries looking for.

He paused to look in the mirror. His jet-black robes were a tad bit short for him - you could see an inch or so of his socks - but they would do. His hair was rather untidy, but nothing society wouldn't accept with more than a short, distasteful look.

He grinned, excited for the first time in ten years. He loved Hogwarts - after all, he'd helped create it, in his white-bearded disguise. A good thing, too, or he might've otherwise been recognized.

Albus had owled him about a month ago, asking if he'd be interested in a teaching position. He'd apparated - yes, he'd taken to the modern term - to Albus's home immediately, with a flow of "yes's" spilling from his lips. He'd been more than willing.

Of course, Merlin knew why Albus had asked, and it wasn't to save him from boredom.

Harry Potter.

The saviour of the wizarding world was coming to Hogwarts this year, and Albus wanted Merlin's help to counsel the boy. "In case Voldemort does return," his old friend had said, "He needs to be ready."

Merlin scowled at the thought of the so-called Dark Lord. He'd been ready to face off with the man himself, but had been halted by a vision from the Old Religion.

Defeating Voldemort was not his destiny, it told him. Harry Potter alone could destroy him.

He should have been thrilled - for once, something wasn't _his destiny -_ but it had been torturous to let that lunatic rage throughout Europe, killing innocents and spreading his disgusting ideology. He'd been beyond relieved when he was finally defeated.

Until he'd learned the truth from Albus. Learned that Voldemort might return - in fact, probably _would -_ and when he did, Merlin would once more have to remain idle and let Harry Potter take down the dark wizard.

And so, when Albus told Merlin what his reasons for hiring him were, he'd been even more determined. If he couldn't fight Voldemort himself, he'd do his best to assist the boy who could.

And after all, helping the hero was something he was rather famous for.

Taking a deep breath, Merlin closed his eyes once again and spoke in the language of the Old Religion.

And, upon opening them, found himself on the bank of the Black Lake, in front of a looming, enormous, magnificent castle.

Hogwarts.

Grinning, Merlin walked up to the large wooden doors and knocked three times. A few moments later, they swung open, revealing an open room, a long, stone staircase, and a stern-looking woman wearing a pointy hat.

"Ah," she said, eyeing Merlin curiously. "You must be Professor Marius Emrys."

Merlin giggled inwardly - _Professor -_ and gave the woman a friendly smile. "That would be me!" he chirped. "And you must be Professor McGonagall. Albus has told me all about you. He sings your praises, truly."

Professor McGonagall continued to regard him warily, but said nevertheless, "Please, call me Minerva. I'll show you to your room."

"Thank you very much, Minerva," Merlin replied, following the witch as she led him up the staircase and to the right.

After a few minutes or rather confusing twists and turns, she stopped in front of a portrait of a - well, what were the odds?

It was _him_.

Not moving, obviously, given he was still alive. But it was nicely painted nonetheless. A bit old, as it depicted his famously bearded self, but still nice.

Merlin smirked. Albus clearly loved his jokes.

"The password is _Avalon_ -" _Imagine that_ , Merlin thought, "- and, as far as I know, stays constant throughout the year. I hope it's to your liking."

"I'm sure I'll love it," Merlin replied, smiling. "Everything in this castle is so beautiful."

At Minerva's raised eyebrow, he quickly backtracked. "From what I've seen," he said hurriedly. "It's very, erm, very nice. From..what I've seen."

She certainly didn't buy it - she seemed far too clever a woman to believe him - but she let it slide. "You have about twenty minutes until the start of the ceremony. I'll send someone to show you the way."

Merlin grinned. "Thank you, Minerva. I'll see you then."

Minerva gave him a tight smile in return before heading off back down the staircase, shoes clicking on the stone floor.

Shaking his head - _how_ , after all these years, did he manage to slip up? - Merlin turned to the portrait and said, "Avalon."

The painting swung inwards, and Merlin climbed through the hole, gripping his suitcase tightly.

It was a lovely room. Not that he was all that surprised; like he'd very stupidly just said, Hogwarts was a truly beautiful place. Even the dungeons had a strange sort of gothic appeal.

His quarters were small, but quaint. The walls were a deep blue color, and covered with various paintings. There was a tiny common room, an even smaller kitchen, and two doors down on a hallway to the right - the bathroom and bedroom, he assumed.

The fireplace was empty, so Merlin lit it with a mere glance. Fires had been easy for centuries.

He probably should have lit it with his wand, but the wooden stick was just so... _boring._ He understood the necessity - modern sorcerers were unable to channel magic directly - but they still irritated him. Forcing magic through such a small outlet wasn't hard, but it felt rather hollow. He much preferred traditional means.

Of course, traditional means had their drawbacks. Mainly, his eyes. They still glowed molten gold each time he performed magic without a wand. This was something witches and wizards had been unable to do for ages. He had to be careful about his methods of using magic, lest he be caught by a student or fellow teacher.

Merlin made his way into his room, making the fireplace within light up as he had with the first one. It was also rather small, but had a comfy feel to it. Beside the bed was a small desk, as well as a cupboard for his clothing. Tossing his suitcase onto the bed, he began to unpack. He could've used his magic, of course, but he had time to kill. So, he went about the process more slowly than usual, waiting for a knock on the portrait door.

As Minerva had promised, it came about fifteen minutes later. Merlin sat up from where he'd been lying on the bed and hurried to the entrance, excitement beginning to bubble up inside his chest. He couldn't wait to meet more sorcerers. Besides Albus, he wasn't really on friendly terms with any of them, and was rather looking forward to changing that.

He stopped to straighten down his robes, as well as his hair, before stepping through the portrait hole to meet his escort.

A tall man who stood before him. He gazed on Merlin with dark brown - almost black - eyes, through a curtain of greasy hair. His face was more or less expressionless, though Merlin couldn't help but notice a hint of vague hostility in the man's eyes. "Professor Emrys, I assume?" he asked in a bored, drawling voice.

Merlin nodded. Refusing to be put off by the man's strange aura, he smiled politely. "That's me!" he said cheerfully.

He stood for a moment, waiting for the man to offer his own name.

He said nothing.

Merlin coughed awkwardly. "And who might you be?"

The man was silent for a few moments, eyes assessing Merlin, before responding, "Professor Severus Snape. If you'd follow me, please."

And he was off, black robes sweeping behind him as he strode down the hallways, not bothering to look back.

Surprised, Merlin quickly followed, nearly jogging to keep up with the Professor's wide long stride.

"What subject do you teach?" Merlin asked curiously. Perhaps the man was just a bit guarded. A little conversation might open him up.

"Potions," Snape replied sharply.

Merlin waited to see if he would elaborate, but the wizard remained silent.

"That must be an interesting subject," Merlin said. "Personally, I've never cared much for it-"

"Shocking," Snape interrupted, voice lightly coated with disgust.

Merlin paused. _Wow_. _Someone has a chip on his shoulder._ But he'd dealt with his fair share of bitter people. He knew how they ticked. It wasn't easy to get through to them, but he'd had a lot of practice. Prince Charles had been a particularly nasty one, but he'd grown to trust Merlin eventually.

The key was to not push. So, Merlin just said, "Well, I'm sure you're brilliant at it. Maybe I'll learn some while I'm here," and then turned away from the professor, keeping his eyes fixed ahead.

When they reached the enormous double doors that led into the Great Hall, Merlin looked at Snape and said kindly, "Thank you for showing me the way, Professor. I appreciate it."

Snape didn't say anything - just nodded curtly.

A moment later, the doors opened.

Merlin grinned. For the first time in five hundred years, he was back at Hogwarts.

This was going to be fun.

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 **So, what did you think? Let me know in a review! :D**


	2. Chapter 2

**First of all, thank you guys _so much_ for the reviews! They really keep me going and they're very much appreciated. **

**Secondly, there's another important thing you should know: the Merlin you know from the HP doesn't exist. I'm destroying him. Obliterating him. Sorry. It's just more fun to make up things myself, you know?**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own HP, nor Merlin.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 2**

The Great Hall was magnificent. That was the only word for it.

Merlin's jaw dropped in awe as he took in the sight of the castle's largest room. It was enormous, with four long tables in the main floor and one more on the upper level, at the front of the hall. Candles floated up near the ceiling, suspended in mid-air, flickering gently and filling the room with a gorgeous yellow glow.

And the _ceiling._ It was magicked to look like the night sky; yellow and white stars glittered up above, along with other colorful celestial sights.

It was magnificent. Simply magnificent. Merlin wondered who had performed the magic - the hall hadn't looked like this when he helped the Founders design and build it.

Albus, perhaps. He'd always been fond of the stars. Merlin remembered meeting the man in his younger years, a few years after he'd graduated from Hogwarts. He used to talk about astronomy all the time, and how it fascinated him. "I want to know all their secrets," he'd said one night, as they sat outside in front of his house in Nottinghamshire, blue eyes wistful and curious.

"Professor Emrys," Merlin heard, and looked up to meet those same eyes. They hadn't faded even in his age. Now, they were twinkling with amusement as he gazed at his old friend fondly, sitting at the table at the front of the room, along with the other professors. "I'm glad you could join us."

Merlin had the decency to blush, hurrying forward to the table. "I'm sorry, Albus," he apologized, once he reached it and stood in front of the Headmaster. "I mean, Professor Dumbledore."

Albus waved a hand. "Call me Albus, dear Marius." The hint of a grin appeared on the wizard's lips, a sparkle of laughter - it was like having an inside joke between the two of them. None of the other professors knew who Merlin was, or that the two men knew each other.

"Of course," Merlin replied, smiling as well.

"May I introduce to you your fellow staff members," he began. "You've already met Minerva, of course - she's with the first years now - as well as Severus. This here," he paused to gesture to a plump woman with a friendly, round face, "is Pomona Sprout, Professor of Herbology, head of Hufflepuff house."

Merlin met her eyes and gave her a polite smile, which she returned. He'd always felt that Hufflepuff was a bit underappreciated. It turned out some of the best wizards, including that clever lad Newt Scamander.

"This is Professor Filius Flitwick," he continued, nodding his head to a rather short, yet kind-looking man. "He teaches Charms."

And on he went, naming each professor until he reached the end of the table, ending on Madam Hooch, the Quidditch Instructor. They all seemed friendly enough, though many were eyeing him rather strangely.

Which was understandable, Merlin supposed. He _did_ look quite young. He knew, however, from his many years of experience, that as long as he respected them and treated them courteously, they'd do the same.

 _Hopefully_ , he thought, glancing at Severus Snape.

As the odds would have it, he ended up sitting next to the fellow, with Pomona Sprout on his left.

"How many years have you been teaching?" he asked her. He'd stuck to his idea of mostly steering clear of any conversation with Severus for now - perhaps later, during the feast.

"36 years," she replied, in an appropriately tired-sounding tone.

"Wow," Merlin said. Sure, 36 years wasn't terribly long to him, but to spend that long around teenagers...Merlin nearly shuddered. There was a reason he'd never taken up teaching in all his long life. "I bet you've seen all kinds of crazy things, haven't you?"

Ponoma made a sort of _pft_ sound, smiling lightly. "Oh, you have no idea, Marius."

Merlin grinned. He had the feeling he'd like her.

A few moments later, the muffled sound of feet reached his ears, and he saw the staff straighten up in their chairs, as if preparing themselves. Excitement bubbled up within him once more; he'd never been around so many magic users before, at least for an extended period of time. Even the great druid tribes that flourished after Guinevere had legalized magic were smaller in numbers than the school.

With a great creaking sound, the enormous wooden doors opened, and a flood of students poured into the halls. All dressed in robes, they hurried to their respective house tables, chatting and laughing as they took their seats.

Merlin smiled at the sight, warmth filling his body. Whenever he was around a large number of witches and wizards, his magic reacted, almost as though it had emotions of its own.

Right now, it was happy - rejoicing, almost, invigorating him and filling him with energy. Merlin willed it to calm down, reigning it it within his mind. He couldn't risk having any teachers notice a flash of gold in his eyes.

A few minutes passed, the Hogwarts students talking excitedly as they waited for the first years. Merlin was talking with Ponoma about his home in Nottinghamshire when the doors opened once more, and the first years walked in.

Merlin grinned as he took in their awed expressions, no doubt the one he'd been wearing not long ago. One boy even jumped up and down, unable to contain his excitement. His friend lightly punched him on the shoulder.

Led by Minerva, the first years gathered in a small crowd at the base of the stairs that led to the table. In front of the table was a small, wooden stool, on top of which was a raggedy, old, pointed hat.

The Sorting Hat. Of course. Merlin hadn't even noticed it. He'd been the one to enchant it, a somewhat difficult process that had taken a few hours to perfect. Perhaps he would have a conversation with it later - he was most curious to hear what it had to say.

Thought - it seemed he might get a few now. The Sorting Hat's mouth opened wide, and began to sing.

 _"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,_

 _But don't judge on what you see,_

 _I'll eat myself if you can find_

 _A smarter hat than me._

 _You can keep your bowlers black,_

 _Your top hats sleek and tall,_

 _For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

 _And I can cap them all._

 _There's nothing hidden in your head_

 _The Sorting Hat can't see,_

 _So try me on and I will tell you_

 _Where you ought to be._

 _You might belong in Gryffindor,_

 _Where dwell the brave at heart,_

 _Their daring, nerve, and chivalry Set Gryffindors apart;_

 _94_

 _You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

 _Where they are just and loyal,_

 _Those patient Hufflepuffis are true And unafraid of toil;_

 _Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

 _if you've a ready mind,_

 _Where those of wit and learning,_

 _Will always find their kind;_

 _Or perhaps in Slytherin_

 _You'll make your real friends,_

 _Those cunning folk use any means_

 _To achieve their ends._

 _So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

 _And don't get in a flap!_

 _You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

 _For I'm a Thinking Cap!"_

Merlin grinned as he clapped, shaking his head. He'd forgotten about the Sorting Hat's tendency to burst into song. He was willing to bet that the Hat spent the entire year making up those tunes.

As Minerva explained the sorting process to the students, Merlin searched the horde of students for the one he'd come to Hogwarts for.

Harry Potter.

After a few seconds, he found him, near the back. He couldn't see the boy that well, but he knew it was him. He could just tell, somehow.

"Abbott, Hannah," Minerva called. A nervous-looking girl with blonde hair and blue eyes walked shakily up the steps and took a seat upon the stool. Minerva placed the hat over her head.

A few seconds passed. Then, "HUFFLEPUFF!"

Merlin grinned, clapping for the girl as she hopped off the stool and hurried over to her table, smiling in relief.

He wondered what house the girl had been afraid of being sorted into. The system had always seemed a bit strange to Merlin. Sure, he'd enchanted the hat, but the idea of houses hadn't been his idea. Rather, it was the Founders who'd suggested it. Personally, he found it odd; after all, everyone had a different personality. You couldn't just shove people into categories.

He just hoped that the rivalry wasn't too bad between houses. It wouldn't do to have magic users disliking each other due to nothing more than living in common rooms with different names.

Minerva continued calling out names. Most students, like Hannah, looked nervous and anxious. A boy named Neville Longbottom was shaking like a leaf when he sat down, nearly whimpering when the hat was placed over his head. Nevertheless, the boy, after nearly five minutes, was sorted into Gryffindor, and hurried over to his table, grinning wildly, hat still on his head.

Draco Malfoy, a haughty-looking boy with white-blonde hair, became the first Slytherin. Merlin looked over at the table and sighed, watching the boy proudly take his seat. He'd never really known what to make of the Slytherins, to be honest. They were certainly overly stereotyped - not _all_ dark witches and wizards were from Slytherin, and he'd known some great people who'd been in Slytherin - but many of the children there strongly believed in _blood purity_ , a concept that disgusted Merlin to his very core. The idea that magic should only be taught to those who had it within their families was, frankly, ludicrous. Many magic users of the Old Religion were self-taught, back when such a thing was possible. The idea of muggle-borns and pure-bloods and the like didn't mean anything when it came to how gifted a witch or wizard was.

Merlin shoved the thoughts away. He'd deal with all that later.

"Potter, Harry!" Minerva called, and the Great Hall went dead silent. Merlin straightened up in his chair, and from the corner of his eye, saw Albus do the same.

The boy was small, Merlin noticed. He had messy, jet-black hair and startling green eyes, hidden behind round glasses.

 _Wow_ , Merlin thought in amazement. He looked almost identical to his father. Merlin had never met James, or his wife, Lily - all his Order work had been behind the scenes - but he'd seen photographs. The resemblance was uncanny, excluding the emerald eyes that belonged to his mother.

Harry, like many others, seemed rather nervous as he climbed the steps. Before he sat down on the stool, however, he shook his head imperceptibly, squared his shoulders, and schooled his features into one of fragile bravery.

Then, he sat down, and the hat went over his head.

Merlin wasn't particularly concerned with where the boy ended up. The houses, as stated before, weren't terribly important to him, and didn't define who the students were, or who they'd turn out to be.

He couldn't, however, deny that the he was curious.

Long seconds passed. The Great Hall seemed to hold its breath, the only sound the occasional whispering of students and rustling of robes.

Harry's suddenly let out a breath of a relief. "GRYFFINDOR!" The hat called a split second later, and the young boy's face broke out into a grin. Taking the hat off and setting it on the stool, he bounded towards his house table amid a smash of thunderous applause.

" _WE GOT POTTER, WE GOT POTTER!"_ shouted two red-haired, identical twins, standing up and clapping enthusiastically, along with their classmates.

Merlin looked over at Albus to see the Headmaster smiling lightly, clapping as he met Harry Potter's eyes.

 _He's probably thrilled,_ thought Merlin. After all, Gryffindor was his own house. He put a little more stock into houses than Merlin did, though not completely - Albus was one of the least judgemental people Merlin had ever met, and resented stereotypes almost as much as he did.

But he was no doubt happy about Harry's sorting - if not for his own sake, then for Harry's. A Harry Potter in Slytherin would have been damn near disastrous for the wizarding world. Even Merlin knew that.

When the sorting was finally finished, Minerva took her place at the head table and Albus went to stand at the podium at the top of the stairs.

"Welcome," he called out, spreading his arms wide, "to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you."

With that, the Headmaster sat down, smiling. Merlin clapped, grinning at the confused looks on the faces of the first years. They'd soon discover that their Headmaster was a wonderfully strange man, if they hadn't figured it out already.

Delighted gasps resounded throughout the hall as food appeared on the tables and their goblets filled with pumpkin juice. Merlin smiled, immediately digging into his food. He was famished, not having eaten since early this morning.

He mostly chatted with Pomona throughout the feast. He learned all about Herbology, and how severely underappreciated it was. Merlin couldn't help but agree. Plants were extremely vital when it came to certain forms of magic, especially the world of potions and certain spells of the Old Religion. He'd learned to use them quite frequently, and knew a great deal about them and their properties.

Though, from what this woman, was saying, it seemed a real possibility that she knew more than he did. The thought was actually a happy one.

Eventually, the students and staff were full, unable to eat anymore, and the food disappeared, gone in the blink of an eye. Dumbledore stood up once more, returning to his podium.

"Now that we are all fed and watered," he announced, "I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First of all, I would like to remind all of you that the forest on the grounds in forbidden. A few of our older students would care to remember that." He glanced in the direction of the two red-haired twins from earlier, eyes twinkling in amusement.

"Also, I would like it to be known that the third floor is out of bounds to all who do not wish to die a most painful death."

Merlin would've laughed - Albus certainly had a flair for the dramatic - if he hadn't known the reason. The Philosopher's Stone.

Albus had told him about it when Merlin had appeared in his home. Albus feared the Voldemort might use it in an attempt to return, and had hidden it in the castle, behind a series of tests and enchantments.

Merlin wasn't sure this was the best form of security. Kids were often cleverer than adults assumed.

However, he trusted Albus's judgement, for the most part, and besides - Hogwarts had him now. Not to be arrogant, but he doubted any student would be breaking into the third floor under his nose.

"Finally, as many of you know, a new required subject is being taught this year to all students - The Old Religion. An ancient form of magic, it is no longer used, but it has a fascinating history and can offer much insight into our modern forms of magic. It will be taught by our new teacher, Professor Marius Emrys."

Albus gestured to him, and Merlin stood up, smiling at the students and offering a little wave.

"Your Head Girls and Boys, as well as your Prefects, will direct you to your respective common rooms. Now, off you trot!"

With that, the professor once again took his seat, and the students began filing out of the hall.

Merlin waited until all the teachers had gone to their chambers before approaching Albus, still sitting in his seat at the table. Merlin pulled out a chair and sat next to him.

"You seemed happy about Harry Potter's Sorting," Merlin said, grinning.

Albus smiled. "Relieved, more than anything," he admitted. "He will do well there, I believe."

Merlin nodded. "Certainly. He'll find good friends there."

"I hope so," Albus replied, eyes flashing with concern. "I believe he was...quite lonely, living with the Dursley's."

"Maybe he'll find a home here," Merlin suggested. "Lots of kids have, though not all of them…"

He trailed off, not wanting to go down that train of thought.

"Tom Riddle," Albus filled in for him. "I know. I can only hope I won't fail Harry as I did that boy."

Merlin shook his head and laid a hand on Albus's shoulder. "What happened to Tom is _not_ your fault. I know how you feel - I know you think it's your burden to bear, but it's not. For years, I…" he trailed off once more, sighed deeply. "For years I blamed myself for Morgana. For what happened to her. Hundreds of years. It took me forever to realize that some people can't be saved. At least, not from themselves." He gave Albus a comforting smile. "Don't dwell on the past, Albus. You can't change it."

Albus nodded, standing up and letting out a deep breath. "Thank you, Merlin," he said, blue eyes shining appreciatively. "You give wonderful advice, my dear friend."

"No problem," Merlin replied, grinning. "If you need any more, just let me know." He tapped his temple. "I've got all kinds of rubbish up here."

Albus chuckled. "I'm sure," he said. "Goodnight, Merlin."

"Goodnight, Albus."

When he got back to his chambers, Merlin immediately collapsed onto his bed, exhausted. It was so strange, being so immersed in the world of magic.

It was almost like old times.

Smiling, Merlin closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

 **...so, did you like it? Hate it? Let me know in a review! :D**


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry for the slightly shitty chapter. I've been really busy, and I have a lot of schoolwork to do. I just really wanted to give you guys something.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 3**

Merlin awoke to the sound of birds.

Muffled chirping filled his bedroom and rays of sunlight beamed through the window as Merlin's eyes fluttered open.

Stretching, he sat up in his bed, smiling gently and feeling completely rested. Despite the newness of his life at the moment and the inevitable stress that would soon come, he'd slept better than he had in ages.

Merlin looked over at the clock on the wall and - " _Damn it!_ "

He was late. Again.

Leaping out of bed, he magicked his robes from the cupboard and quickly dressed before hurrying out of the portrait hole.

He sped through the hallways, glad that Albus had already set up the majority his classroom. He glanced down at his watch. Class had started five minutes ago.

 _Wonderful,_ Merlin thought. _What a great first impression._

Of course, the students were probably thrilled he wasn't in class yet - that meant more time to talk amongst themselves - so perhaps it wasn't _such_ a bad impression. The thought gave him a little bit of comfort.

Finally, he reached classroom, stopping before the doors to wipe the sweat from his forehead, straighten his robes, and pat down his hair.

 _Here we go._

Grinning with excitement, he opened the doors and walked through.

Students' heads turned towards him and voices quieted as Merlin strolled toward the front of the room.

"Sorry I'm late," he apologized, a tad breathless. He took his place in front of the students and grinned. "I slept in - something I'm sure you all can understand."

There were a few cautious smiles in reply, though that might have actually been pity. He wasn't sure.

He caught sight of Harry Potter - _well, what are the odds?_ \- sitting next to a red-haired boy. The young wizard was looking at him curiously.

"Welcome to History and Practices of The Old Religion," he said cheerfully, holding out his arms. "I know it probably sounds dreadfully boring, but I promise it's not as bad as it sounds,"

 _Hopefully._ He'd picked a first-day topic that he thought he would peak some of his students' interests.

"In this class," he continued, "you'll be learning about a very ancient form of magic - older than Hogwarts itself." A few students perked up at this, heads tilted in interest. "Much older, in fact. The Old Religion actually dates back to before the time of King Arthur." He allowed himself a small smile.

"Unfortunately, that's not something you'll be studying until a little while later. But there's much more to The Old Religion than the tales of Camelot. Today, to start off, we'll be talking about dragons."

There were whispers of excitement. One Gryffindor girl with bushy brown hair immediately sat up straighter, eyes alight, clearly eager to learn. Merlin grinned.

"Now, these aren't the dragons you know today. No, these dragons are different. These dragons possessed magic themselves, and could use it freely."

The bushy-haired girl's eyes widened, and her hand shot up. "Yes! Ms…"

"Hermione Granger, sir," she supplied. "Dragons aren't inherently magical, though, are they? They don't use spells or anything. It's impossible! They're just creatures."

"Maybe now," Merlin replied. "But it wasn't always that way. A long time ago, dragons could indeed use spells and enchantments. In fact -" he leaned forward, a touch of dramatic effect - "they could even _talk."_

A few students were looking at him ludicrously. Hermione Granger's eyes were wide.

"I've _never_ heard that," Merlin heard the red-haired boy whisper to Harry Potter.

"It's not something you'd read about in any book," Merlin explained. "In fact, most things you learn in this class won't be found in any library you know of."

Hermione's hand immediately shot up again. Merlin smiled - her enthusiasm would certainly keep the class interesting, he foresaw. "Yes, Ms. Granger?"

"Then how do you know about all this? If it can't be found in any book?"

Merlin grinned. "I've spent my whole life studying the Old Religion. I've been to many different places in this world and have found many scrolls and artifacts and written works that have supplied my knowledge."

"And you _remember_ it all?" A boy with a Scottish accent asked, positively baffled.

"I have a good memory," Merlin replied. _Better than you could ever know._

"Now," Merlin continued, "back to dragons."

He spent the rest of the class speaking about dragons and their connection to the Old Religion, telling them all about their powers and wisdom, as well as their capacity for destruction.

At the end of the lesson, Merlin clapped his hands together and announced, "No homework for next time. Just come prepared to take notes."

The students cheered, leaping out of their seats and darting out of the classroom.

When they were all gone, Merlin turned around and marched up the stairs to his office, thankful that the next period was for preparation.

Merlin opened the wooden door and stepped inside, eyes scanning the space.

It was quaint, really - similar to his bedroom, only much smaller.

It held only the essentials, however, such as parchment and quills and the like. The bookshelves were completely barren - a sad sight - and the room lacked any personal embellishment.

 _That'll have to change,_ Merlin thought as he gazed at the mostly empty room.

Closing his eyes, he focused for a moment and - _there._ Merlin grinned at the pile of books that had appeared on his desk and immediately set to work on placing them in the bookshelves. Alphabetical by author's last name - just how he liked it.

He had all sorts of volumes, most of them spell books. He'd fibbed in the classroom earlier; he did had books about the Old Religion and the forms of magic he'd practiced back in Camelot. It was just that list of them were either worth more than all the gold at Gringotts or written by himself, two things that would be rather tricky to explain.

He picked up one volume and dusted it off. _The Complete History of Camelot._ His best work, in Merlin's opinion, and sought by wizarding scholars all over the world. Grinning, he placed it on his bookshelf and, with a (really rather unnecessary) wave of his hand, enchanted the title to read _Common Uses of Dragon's Blood._

By the time he'd lined the books up properly, the next class was about to begin.

Third-year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. All sorts of stuff about dragons.

Merlin grinned.

 _This is great._

As it turned out, teaching was slightly exhausting.

Not anything he couldn't handle, of course. He'd been on this planet for a long time. A day of teaching wasn't going to take him down.

In its own way, however, teaching _was_ rather tiring. He was around adolescents all day, many uninterested in schooling all together. He was on his feet for most of the day, and constantly talking. He hadn't talked this much in a century.

And he _loved_ it.

He wasn't sure why he hadn't taken teaching up before. He'd always been good at talking - or, as _some people_ called it, "unnecessary, idiotic chatter," - and so, naturally, teaching seemed to be something he excelled at.

It was even better that he got to talk about what he loved. Throughout the years, there had been very few instances where he could freely speak about his magic, and now it was his _job._

Merlin really needed to thank Albus. Again.

Of course, he hadn't gotten into anything about Camelot, yet. Given that this was a new subject, all the students were learning the same thing.

He knew that talking about Camelot would bring up difficult memories. Just lecturing about dragons today has reminded him of Kilgharrah and everything they'd been through with. He wasn't sure if he was capable of talking about Camelot and The Knights and _Arthur_ in such a casual, impersonal way.

But it had been a long time since those years, and he'd found ways to heal, find a small bit of closure. Perhaps speaking about such things was a good idea. Perhaps it would make things easier.

Shaking off those kinds of thoughts - _one thing at a time -_ Merlin climbed out of his portrait hole and began making his way to the Great Hall for dinner.

He was nearly there when he saw it - the library.

Merlin immediately grinned and headed towards the entrance. _Dinner can wait._

Hogwarts had a very nice library. Merlin had made sure of that when he'd helped design it. In fact, some of the books that resided in this room had belonged to him at some point in time, though they were probably deep within the Restricted Section.

Merlin chuckles as he caught sight of the infamous part of the library. He remembered being dumbfounded when the Founders brought up the idea. Like the idea of Houses, it seems a bit silly. If kids wanted a book from the "restricted section," they'd find a way to get it - something he knew from personal experience, having snuck around the Archives within the citadel at Camelot numerous times.

Walking up to the librarian - Madam Pince, he remembered from the the Opening Ceremony - he asked, "May I have a look inside?"

The older woman nodded. "All teachers have unlimited access," she explained, something that clearly bothered her, judging from the slightly sour look on her face.

"Excellent!" Merlin replied, and quickly went inside.

From what he could see, he was, unsurprisingly, the only one. The room seemed somehow _darker_ than the rest of the library, though Merlin knew for a fact that the so-called "dark magic" contained within these books was very lite compared to what other volumes were out there.

Merlin strolled along for a while, reading titles and pulling out books that caught his interested. He halted, however, when he heard the sound of scuffling feet.

Frozen in place, Merlin waited for the sound once more. There was silence for a long moment, but eventually it resumed, considerably quieter than before, but still audible.

Very softly, Merlin began walking toward the source, holding his breath as he crept through the aisles.

He was beginning to walk through another one when he saw a flash of clothing out of the corner of his eye and whipped around to see -

"Professor Quirrell!" He exclaimed, surprised. He recalled meeting the man at the feast. A bit of an odd fellow, he remembered.

The professor gave a sort of squeak in surprise, looking at Merli with frightened eyes. "P-p-professor Emrys!" He stuttered.

"Sorry if I frightened you," Merlin apologized.

Professor Quirrell shook his head feverently. "It's q-quite alright," he replied.

"I was just having a look around," Merlin explained. "I haven't had the chance yet." He gave the professor a curious look. "What were you doing here?"

Quirrel seemed to freeze for a moment, move open but unmoving. He was silent for a long moment, before eventually saying, "Just p-picking some books up for class."

He gave Merlin a very feeble smile before mumbling a goodbye and heading out the door.

Merlin frowned. _Strange._ Putting the incident out of his mind, he exited the room and quickly made his way out of the library, down toward the Great Hall.

It didn't occur to him until later, while he was settling into bed, that Professor Quirrell hadn't been carrying any books.


End file.
